EDITED 4/8 – This is actually the back half of chapter three. I've learned my lesson and am saving files more carefully now. Thanks to AriF for her beta-ness. If you find punctuation errors and such, they're mine because I went back in and dinked with this afterwards.

Chapter four is in the works. See you back here in a week.

Jennifer

"Chet Gecko"

.

The Saturday morning workout at Shobukan Judo is a make-up class open to anyone who missed a regular one during the week which is me on a recurring basis during marching band season. I don't mind the mishmash of younger kids or lower belts. I like to mentor and they're eager to learn. The two other girls my own age however annoy the crap out of me. We used to be fast friends, the only girls in the dojo who stuck with Judo past puberty, but the second divorce and mom's suicide caused a paradigm shift in me that left hair and clothes and boys off the list of important stuff in life. Judo alone is not enough common ground to maintain a friendship.

Today they are fawning over a tall blonde boy about our age in a well-worn gi and brown belt. He appears unperturbed by their giggling and unmoved by their obvious plays for his attention which gets him points in my book. I have little patience for girls who play stupid or boys who would want them to. After formal bows and warm-ups Sensei introduces him as a visitor from a Judo club in Texas, setting off another round of inane tittering.

The twenty or so of us pair up to practice Kata Goruma and Koshi Goruma, shoulder wheel and hip wheel throws. Ten throws on each side, per judoka. I choose one of the younger girls, a couple belts below me and several inches shorter for my partner. She is rock solid and I have to work extra hard to get below her center of gravity to lift her off balance. Midway through the exercise I get the sense of someone staring at me.

"Psst, Hey. What's your name?"

The new guy and a skinny, green belt Korean boy whose name I don't remember have made their way over to our corner of the mat.

"I'm Jake." He announces between throws.

"Shhhh. We don't talk on the mat here."

I'm sweaty, plum-red in the face from exertion and there is sand from last night's swim chaffing like crazy under the edges of my sports bra and panties. I am not in the mood to chit chat with this guy behind Sensei's back in the middle of eighty throws no matter how intense blue his eyes are. They are probably colored contact lenses anyway.

"I'll be quiet. Just tell me your name."

"I'm Grace. Now hush."

"Pleasure to meet ya, Grace." He bows to me slightly then, in one fluid motion, steps in, sweeps his partner up over his back and down to the mat. "There!" he smirks, looking straight back at me, "Was that so difficult?" and gives a hand up to his bewildered opponent.

Oh for crying out loud. He just winked.

Distracted, I follow through on my next the throw a little harder than is absolutely necessary causing my partner to let out a pained yelp on impact with the mat.

"Sorry, sorry." It is my turn to help up a dazed opponent. The exchange has drawn the attention of the Sensei who moves closer to supervise our exercise, effectively stifling any further nonsense.

On the break I move to the sidelines and check my phone for messages. Nothing new to report, texts Steve. Dad's on heavy pain meds. Sleeping. Still in ICU. The sick, sinking feeling I'd been avoiding through exercise returns in spades. The others in the class are huddled around the new guy like he's a celebrity or Jesus. I overhear my name as I press through their crowd to get to the water fountain. A brief hush descends then chatting quickly resumes with a forced cheerfulness that tells me the subject was suddenly changed. They would rather talk about me than to me which is just fine. I don't have much to say to them anyway.

The remaining forty-five minutes is spent sparring. Randori is typically my favorite part of Judo class. Its like the shiai of competition without arm bars and choke holds. Today my mind is dull and mired in emotional quicksand. My body aches and twitches from lack of food and proper sleep. In the first round it is by dogged determination alone that I eventually pin my opponent and get the ippon. We fight two more rounds. In both she gets me off balance and throws me for the win.

Glad to be done I only want to strip off my obi, pack up my bag and get out the door to see Danno, but the new guy comes bounding up to me, all eager, looking like a six foot tall golden retriever.

"Yo, Grace. Wait up. You're serious about this stuff aren't you? You're really good."

"Yeah, I am. Serious. I mean. Thanks, uh, Jake – right? You're pretty hardcore too. Finding a workout on vacation."

"I'm not on vacation. I moved here a week ago. My dad got transferred."

"Oh. Welcome to Hawaii."

"Thanks."

"So you're from Texas. Dallas?"

"No, Austin. You go to McKinley?"

"Nah, Kukui."

"Aw, too bad."

"Grace, Got your stuff? Let's go." Kono has already changed into street clothes and is waiting by the exit.

"Coming! Just a sec."

"That your mom?"

"My auntie. Sort of. Look, I gotta go. It was nice to meet you." I pull a clean t-shirt on over my head, stuff the top of my gi into the gym bag and start to follow Kono out the door.

Jake falls into step beside me."You wanna show me around the island? Give me the kama'aina tour? Maybe stop for a shave ice or something?"

"No. I'm gonna be really busy for a while. I don't know when I'd have time. Ask someone else."

"Oh ok. See you around, I guess." He stops abruptly

"Wait, Jake." I turn just as suddenly and face-plant into his chest. "Oooff! – That came out wrong. I would like to see you. I just can't today. My dad was in an accident. He's in the hospital. In ICU. We're going to the airport to pick up my grandparents flying in from New Jersey...and -" I'm babbling again like I'm explaining myself to Steve or Dad.

"It's all good." He lays hands on my shoulders, steps back and holds me at arms length, "Another time then. Hope he's gonna be alright"

"Grace, honey. Sorry, we need to go" interrupts Kono from the other side of the car.

"Just a sec, Kono."

"Here, put your number in my phone. I'll call you later. See how y'all are doin' ."

"Sure." I input my name and number and hand it back.

"I'll talk to you soon, Grace – " looking down at the entry on his screen, " – Williams."

"That'd be nice, Jake –

" – Masters"

"Jake Masters."

I get in the car, buckle up and stare at him, just a little, as we drive away.

"So, you're going to wear that to get your grandparents?"

"What? What's wrong with this shirt?" Smoothing it a little and sniffing under the neckline, "I'ts clean!"

"Not the shirt, silly. I'm talking about the big fat I-met-a-boy smile on your face" Kono teases, "Haven't seen that in a while, girl. Its a good look on you."

"Hey, hey, hey. He's just new to the island. He asked me to show him around" I turn on my best innocent I-have-no-idea-what-you-are-talking-about-face.

"Whatever. But you do know your grandmother is going to have a conniption when she sees that shirt."

"You don't think Grandma is down with Mr. Zog's Sex Wax?"